


Send Him A Casserole

by CarnationGem (Akumeoi)



Series: You Own The Stars Tonight [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue-Purple Hawke, Developing Relationship, F/M, Female Friendship, Letters, Morning After, Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11103063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/CarnationGem
Summary: After Hawke and Fenris sleep together and he leaves in the morning, Hawke finds herself in need of a friend and a plan. Orana is there.





	Send Him A Casserole

The morning after Fenris had come and left, Lyra inspected her hickies in the mirror and wondered vaguely where her hairbrush had gotten off too. The room was in complete disarray from last night’s lovemaking, because taking a full suit of armour off of Fenris in the dark had turned about to be quite an undertaking. He had probably put his hand through it in his nervousness and haste - he certainly had done a number on that ugly red dress she had been wearing. If she had been expecting him, well - but no, perhaps it was better than she hadn’t been, for the sake of her own nerves. 

As she lifted the blankets on the floor in the search for her hairbrush, a knock came at the door behind her, making Lyra jump. The thought that it might be Fenris returning flitted through her mind, bringing with it an unreasonable twinge of hope, though she knew him too well to imagine he might come back so soon. Of course, it was just Orana, holding a tea tray and looking cautiously around the room, as if she imagined Lyra had hidden Fenris somewhere within it. Of course - Orana wouldn’t have seen Fenris leaving, since he had gone at around two in the morning. 

“He’s gone,” Lyra said, as Orana set the tea tray down on the small table under the window. 

“Is he, Mistress?” Orana asked, turning to Lyra. When her gaze fell on the bruises on Lyra’s neck, purple against her tan skin, she let out a little yelp of surprise. 

“Mistress, your neck!”

“I know,” Lyra said. “Everyone will see them, but I’m a master of lying about things that are important to me, so I think I can deflect all the questions. Don’t worry.”

“He didn’t - he didn’t hurt you, did he?” Orana asked, round eyes filled with concern.

Lyra laughed, a little bitterly. On the one hand, there was the terrible irony of Orana’s statement - Fenris hadn’t left a mark on her body that she hadn’t desired with all her being. But leaving her so suddenly? That had been hurtful, even if he hadn't been able to help it. 

But then there was also the innocence of Orana’s question, and the problem of how to answer it. As usual, Lyra settled for brutal honesty. 

“Not at all. These are just love bites,” Lyra said, grinning in spite of herself. “There are probably more on the rest of me.”

Looking down the front of her own nightgown, Lyra noted the marks on her breasts with a cocktail of mixed emotions. The primary one was satisfaction, but accompanied by a pang of loss.

“Yes, there are,” Lyra said, looking up to see Orana staring wide-eyed. “Sorry, Orana, was that a bit much?” She laughed, and then had a thought. Normally Orana left after bringing Lyra’s morning cup of tea, but Lyra didn’t feel like drinking it alone this morning. Besides, she had a few problems that needed to be solved. “If you have time, I’d like to have a little talk now, so please don’t leave yet.”

“With me, Mistress?” Orana asked. “I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”

“Well, you did fail to notice that there’s a torn dress on the floor,” Lyra said, kicking it with her toe as she went to sit at the table. 

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Orana said, scrambling to pick it up. The tone of her voice was a little too frantic, so Lyra sighed as she picked up her cup.

“I’m not upset with you, Orana. I just thought we could have a conversation, you know. Like friends,” she added brightly, gesturing with the tea cup, which came dangerously close to dumping hot tea over her fingers.

Clutching the red dress to her, Orana cocked her head and peered at Lyra in confusion. 

“Friends, Mistress? But I’m -”

“A servant, I know. Well, now you’re my friend too, congratulations. I need someone to talk to about this, and I don’t particularly feel like interrupting Aveline’s morning inspection. And Anders hates Fenris, he wouldn’t do at all. Look, if you feel uncomfortable about it I’ll go bother Varric or something, but-” Lyra broke off to take a drink of tea “-I really would like for us to get to know each other better.”

Orana considered it for a moment, and a shy smile slipped over her face. “I’ll try, Mistress. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a friend before, so I’m not sure how good at it I will be.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lyra said, waving one hand dismissively. “Merrill’s never had any friends before either, and she’s only a little bit bad at it. You’re not into blood magic, so I imagine it will be much easier for you. Come sit down.”

Looking timid still, Orana sat down in the chair across from Lyra, folding the dress as she did so. A big strip of fabric hung out like a red sail, refusing to fit flat inside the folded skirt. Orana draped the whole thing over her lap, toying uncertainly with the torn part.

“Fenris,” Lyra began, plunking the teacup down with a rattle of the saucer that made Orana wince, “has decided that he’s not ready for a relationship and left me. What do you have to say to that?”

“I - I don’t know, Mistress. Are you upset about it?”

“Hard to tell, isn’t it?” Lyra said with a smirk. “In answer to your question, yes, but damned if I’m going to take him personally.” It was still too early to say how this would play out. Fenris had been known to apologise for bad behaviour in the past. It wasn’t too late. “And stop with the ‘Mistress’ thing. ‘Lyra’ or ‘Hawke’ will do.” 

“Y - yes, Mist- um, Mistress Lyra,” Orana said, blushing slightly. “U-um, so what are you going to do?”

“That’s the thing,” Lyra said, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. “I’m sure he is busy wallowing in misery this very moment as we speak - well, that or sleeping - but I don’t want him to waste time doing that when he could be sorting out his feelings instead. Fenris, Varric, Anders, and I are supposed to be patrolling Hightown tonight to try and catch some more of those Invisible Sisters or whatever they call themselves, but I think Fenris is now planning to not come.”

“You think he doesn’t want to see you?” Orana said, tilting her head in question. 

“My friends and I are the only friends he has,” Lyra said grimly. “I don’t care if he wants to see me again, but it isn’t going to be my fault if he isolates himself from everyone else.”

Orana’s eyes went round. “I understand now. Master Fenris is a little... prickly. I mean, he’s nice. But he can be scary sometimes.”

Lyra laughed, fondly remembering the ferocious intensity with which Fenris had declared himself to her yesterday. For just a moment, a pang of loss shot through her. But there wasn’t time for that now, so she brushed it aside. 

“Yes. So what do you think I should do? Fruit basket? Go knock on his door? That’s too much, don’t you think?”

Fiddling with the loose cloth flapping free from the dress in her lap, Orana thought for a moment. After a long pause, during which Lyra took another sip of her tea and found it still warm, Orana spoke. 

“A casserole?” she said.

“A casserole?” Lyra echoed. “Why?”

“That’s what I know how to make, Mistress Lyra. And it keeps. If he’s really upset like you say, he probably isn’t eating. Papa used to say that a good casserole can warm even the coldest broken heart.”

Lyra drained the last of the teacup, and made a face as the last bitter drops slid down her throat. Subconsciously fingering the marks along her collarbone, she thought about what Orana had said. 

“Who will deliver it?” she asked. 

“Why, me, of course, Mistress Lyra. Bodahn doesn’t run errands for you.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Lyra asked. “I can help you make the casserole.”

“Not at all, Mistress Lyra!” Orana was shocked. “I’ll make it, and I’ll deliver it for you. It’s no trouble. I dusted the whole house yesterday, so all I have to do today is the laundry. And see about this dress...”

Both of them looked instinctively down at the crumpled fabric in Orana’s lap, which she quickly smoothed out. 

“Is it salvageable?” Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow doubtfully. Orana had not known how to sew when she first came to work for Lyra, but it had quickly become evident that with the amount of wear and tear Lyra put on her clothes, Orana would have to learn. So Leandra was kindly giving her lessons, but Orana was still in most respects a beginner. 

“I don’t know, Mistress Lyra,” Orana admitted. “It is a very big tear.”

“Hmm,” Lyra said, regarding it steadily. “Is it just in the skirt, or does it reach the bodice?”

Orana unfolded the dress, and Lyra moved the tea things to the windowsill so Orana could lay the dress across the table. 

“It’s just the skirt,” Orana said, running her fingers along the tear. “Um... what happened to it?”

“I stood on the hem,” Lyra said, not adding that Fenris had put his glowing hand through it by accident at the same time.

“I could make a pinafore for it...” Orana offered, but Lyra shook her head. 

“No, I’ve got a better idea,” she said, grinning. “I hate that dress anyway. Let’s cut off the bottom and save the fabric. Then you can get Mother to show you how to turn the top half into a tunic. She used to do that with my old dresses when I was little. Carver hated wearing them.”

Orana laughed, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Hearing her shy, tinkling, little laugh, Lyra smiled encouragingly at her. This was the first time she’d ever heard Orana laugh. 

_Well, at least something good has come out of this,_ she thought to herself. 

“I think I can do that, Mistress Lyra,” Orana said, trying to regain her composure. 

“Good,” Lyra said. “So it’s settled. You’ll make a casserole for Fenris - and I suppose I’ll put a letter on it - and you can make something nice out of that silly dress. Excellent.”

Having a plan always made Lyra feel stronger. Rising, she pushed her chair in and went over the wardrobe to retrieve something clean to wear.

“Thanks for all your help, Orana,” she said, smiling at Orana over the top of a tunic she was holding up to check for stains.

“It’s no trouble, Mistress,” Orana said, evidently thinking that the whole ‘friendship’ thing was over.

“Mistress Lyra,” Lyra corrected serenely. “Does this tunic look clean to you?”

“Yes, Mistress Lyra,” Orana said, folding the dress up again. 

“Excellent,” Lyra said. As she rummaged through the wardrobe for a suitable pair of trousers, she was struck by a sudden thought. 

“Orana?”

“Yes, Mistress Lyra?”

“Do you think you could just hem a long, thin strip of fabric from the bottom of that dress? Today?”

“Yes I could, Mistress. It shouldn’t take me too long, either. Not more than hour, I think,” Orana said obligingly. 

“Can you do that for me, please? Oh, and tell Bodhan to draw up a bath, will you?”

“Yes, I can. But why do you want a piece of this hemmed, Mistress Lyra?” Orana asked. 

Lyra smiled, depositing some unwrinkled brown trousers on the bed and closing the wardrobe. “I want to wrap it around the casserole,” she said. “So he can look at it later when he’s deciding if he wants to come to Lowtown with me or not. And if he doesn’t, it’s something to remember me by.”

“That’s... very clever, Mistress Lyra,” Orana said uncertainly. Lyra laughed.

“Oh, Orana - wait a minute,” Lyra said as Orana paused in the doorway. “Have you seen my hairbrush?”

———

_Dear Fenris,_

_This is a casserole, which Orana assures me is a cure-all for a great many ills indeed. I do not know if you are personally suffering any ills at the present moment, but if you are, this casserole is certain to make all of them go right away. And if you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to try it. The very stylish scarf adorning it is from the dress you ruined last night, which I feel I must thank you for, as I absolutely detested it. Next time you come to call on me, I shall be prepared to receive you in my second least favourite dress. This way, I can clean out my closet entirely by the time the new season starts, and then I shall acquire more dresses I do not like and we can begin all over again._

_But enough of that. I hope I will see you this evening in front of the Chanter’s Board, where I shall wait for you with Varric and Anders as planned. There are still a great many criminals in Kirkwall, and I’m sure that not a one of them plans to cease their nightly activities simply because you and I have now slept together, so you’ll have to forgive me for not excusing you from coming. If you do not wish to come, please send advance notice with Orana so that I can bully Aveline into joining me in your stead. But that would be very inconvenient for everyone involved, so won’t you please come? You know how I hate having to change my plans on short notice._

_Hope to see you later,_  
_Lyra_

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, another romanced-Fenris's-piece-of-red-cloth origin story. 
> 
> I liked Orana a lot. I'm glad that we were able to save her, and I headcanon that she becomes one of Lyra's good friends. Lyra isn't really used to having house servants - they only had farmhands back in Ferelden. She doesn't really know what to do with Orana, but that whole "Mistress" thing makes her cringe a little. Even though she's paying Orana generously, it just feels wrong. So here's some female bonding. 
> 
> The dress I keep referring to is that ugly red thing that fem!Hawke wears in her mansion. I know that the one in canon has a high hemline and is too form fitting for the kind of damage described in this fic, so imagine it longer and more flowing. And ripped up now.
> 
> Comments always welcome!


End file.
